


Values worth supporting

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Greece, Partnership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:56:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: Something felt wrong, but Illya couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. He had no real reason to feel such a sense of disquiet, yet he couldn't seem to shake it.Napoleon doesn't share Illya's conflicted feelings about a mission. But neither could have foreseen its outcome.LJ Once upon a time challenge. Theme: unease





	Values worth supporting

April 1967

“A large quantity of the armaments we have been supplying to the Greek government has gone missing,” Waverly told them. “There are several places that have been used for hiding such _matériel_ in previous times of conflict; the one I want you to find and retrieve is said to be here,” and he pulled up a detailed map of part of northern Greece.

“Is Thrush involved in this?” Napoleon asked.

“No, it’s an internal problem for which we have received a request for help from the Greek government. At present they don’t want to provoke local tensions.”

“So, who _has_ taken them?” Illya asked.

“In a way, it doesn’t matter,” said Waverly. “It’s a country of political extremes. There are many factions that could have captured them, almost certainly to use against the government and the King. All that’s clear is that this is a large quantity that must be taken out of the equation.” He looked at his agents seriously. “To prevent another Greek civil war.”

“What back up will we have? We can’t handle that kind of retrieval on our own,” said Napoleon.

“You will alert the local authority, who will then take over.”

Illya looked at Waverly guardedly but said nothing. Getting the local authority involved didn’t seem the way to avoid civil war – they were bound to involve the police and who knew what would happen then.

oo000oo

There was a day to prepare before their departure, which Illya spent in the library. His reading brought renewed uneasiness. Despite his years living in freedom and comfort in the United States, his adopted country’s passionate opposition to anything to do with socialism and communism baffled him; it rejected even the parts that most closely corresponded to the Christian message, like sharing wealth where it was needed. He now read that the US, having stopped providing civil aid, had made Greece dependent on financial aid for weapons – to fight the Left in general and the communists in particular. Such a waste! Why not help people out of poverty rather than kill them for thinking differently?

He sat back and closed his eyes to contain his conflicted thoughts. Ironically aware that it was American freedom that permitted him to think of challenging an order, it was nevertheless his Soviet military training that to some extent protected him from this philosophical difficulty. He would obey. Up to a point.

Suffering none of this psychological, let alone philosophical angst, Napoleon – on the correct assumption that Illya would have done the research as he always did – spent the day ensuring a future welcome from various female acquaintances on his return. He even managed to get it all down in a diary – with the right names, dates and restaurants.

oo000oo

He found Illya even more taciturn than usual during the journey; almost hostile. It was fairly normal behaviour, but there was something different about it – as if he resented having to take part in the mission at all. That wasn’t normal, though in every other respect normality prevailed – he hired a car, knew where they were going, did most of the driving – but without the usual conversational give and take. Napoleon sat back and waited as usual for whatever was bugging him to blow over.

They got a room above a village taverna and sat down over dinner to go over the next day’s plans. Unlike Illya, Napoleon wasn’t a great fan of resinated wine; he thought it was liable to strip the enamel from your teeth, so they shared a bottle of rather sweet red wine with their meal while they pored over the map.

“There’s a cave marked on the map – used during the war by the resistance, I believe,” said Illya. “I think it might be a good place to start. The path to it looks steep. Are you up to a stiff walk?”

“Certainly,” said Napoleon, slightly affronted, but also relieved by the reappearance of Illya’s normal mockery.

He had made no comment yet about his partner’s seeming unease. Illya was bound to say something eventually. But later, even as they settled down to sleep, he was aware of unusual restlessness in the other bed and again refrained from asking what was wrong. You couldn’t get answers from his unyielding partner by direct questions. He’d try something tomorrow.

Illya already had the route clear in his mind and had even arranged with the taverna kitchen to provide them with food for a long day on the mountain. So, in the morning, he laid out maps, torches, food, water bottles and extra garments, and packed the rucksacks. “Got everything?” said Napoleon, earning himself an early miffed look. “That’s good,” he said, both answering and responding to his own question.

The cave shouldn’t be hard to find; it was said to be on a plateau at about 600 meters up the mountain. The gradient was very steep at times, and they sometimes found themselves not only on a much-narrowed path but also on the edge of a dangerous drop.

Illya led at a steady pace, both men sweating under the rucksacks in the hot sunshine. Napoleon, for once wearing appropriate boots and, like Illya, a broad-brimmed hat, found the pace slightly more of a struggle than his slender and more agile partner.

Once, a herd of goats made them jump by suddenly bounding across the path to take apparently suicidal leaps down the side of the mountain, but mostly the local fauna consisted of bees and circling birds – eagles, Illya assured him, not vultures as Napoleon feared.

From time to time, the path was shaded by overhanging rocks and vegetation but not often enough. As they approached one such patch of shade, they could hear water which promised welcome relief.

There was a fast-flowing mountain stream full of the chill of snow melt, which was effective to cool hands, wrists and necks. It was a good place to take a breather. Napoleon took the opportunity to find out what Illya’s silence was all about.

“What is it, Illya? You’ve been very withdrawn – I can’t read your mind, so tell me.”

Illya looked away then rubbed his face with wet hands. He sat with his head on his knees and then spoke.

“If we find something – _if_ – and we tell the authorities, do you know what will happen to these people? They will be rounded up and imprisoned, possibly executed.” Illya raised troubled eyes. “For daring to oppose the government in the only way they can. This is a democracy, yet opposition leaders have been assassinated under the eyes of the police – did you know that? The police stood by and did nothing.”

Napoleon looked at his friend and saw a gulf between them. They rarely challenged orders or the rationale for a mission, and Illya was usually the most compliant of anyone.

“Así es la vida, Illya. Leave it – we don’t have a dog in this fight.”

“Life doesn’t have to be like that and even when it is, we don’t have to assist. And what have dogs to do with it?”

“It’s not our business to challenge it. Our role is to give aid to the governments that support us.”

“I thought the West was different. With values worth supporting.” And with that, he stood up and set off again. Napoleon scrambled to his feet and followed, wondering what to say.

oo000oo

Illya had set a fast pace but, at a bend in the path some distance further on, he stopped suddenly. Napoleon, coming up behind him, saw a heavily laden mule coming toward them led by a young man and followed by another man at the rear, both carrying rifles. On the mule’s back was a large rectangular crate – not farm produce or fodder but the kind of solid crate required for heavy goods such as weapons.

The men were clearly on edge and on seeing purposeful-looking strangers in their path, the one leading raised his rifle and before either Napoleon or Illya could speak or react he fired. Napoleon heard a little cry from his partner and turned to see him fall off the edge of the path, and there was the sound of his tumbling descent through the vegetation down the steep side of the gully. “Jesus! Illya!” he cried.

The man who had fired reloaded but was too late to get a good shot at Napoleon who had flung himself down and now rolled over the edge of the path in slithering pursuit. His uncontrolled slide was stopped by a very strongly rooted shrub and, scratched, bleeding and covered in bruises, he scanned the terrain for signs of Illya’s fall. Broken vegetation suggested the way to go and with more care, he scrabbled his way further down. He was now out of sight of the path above and no-one appeared to be following – it was dangerously steep and would be nearly impossible to climb again.

He found Illya lying still at the foot of a tree near the bottom of the slope. Napoleon fearfully felt for a pulse in his neck and bent to listen for his breathing. The pulse was faint, his breathing fast and shallow and, like Napoleon, he was scratched and bleeding from many small wounds as well as from a deeper flesh wound in his arm. Not knowing what the extent of his injuries might be, Napoleon dared not move him but, hearing the sound of running water, he went to look for its source. It was a spring, some distance away, from which he could fill his water bottle to use cleaning up Illya’s injuries. His own cuts stung in the cold water; maybe the stinging would rouse his partner.

He cleaned him up as best he could and pulled out dressings from the first aid kit to bind up the flesh wound. Illya remained unconscious though his breathing had deepened a little. That suggested there were no broken ribs and Napoleon now felt his arms and legs to see whether he had broken any other bones. His limbs seemed to be intact but there was no way of knowing what he might have done to his back or neck. He’d have to wait for him to come round.

oo000oo

Illya’s eyes opened. Napoleon was sitting beside him with his head on his arms. “Napoleon?” he said groggily.

“Hey, buddy,” he said gently, putting a hand on his chest to stop him moving. “Don’t try to sit up. Can you feel your arms and legs?”

Illya grunted. “I _can_. And before you ask, I can even wiggle my toes. What happened?”

“You fell off the path up there and rolled down. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

Not just alive but more himself now and remembering, he said, “No miracle. I think I mostly slid down on my back into this tree. Luckily on the rucksack – or my back would have been flayed. I want to sit up – it’s digging into me.”

“How’s your neck, before you try?”

Illya turned his head carefully. “Can’t hear any grinding. Can I get up now?”

“Roll over and push yourself up that way.”

“All right, nurse,” Illya grumbled, but he rolled over dutifully onto his uninjured arm and pushed himself up painfully. He examined Napoleon’s handiwork on his wound and smiled grimly. “Quite a good nurse.”

“Any time.” Napoleon looked seriously at him. “It might not be a good idea to move yet. How’s the head?”

“It aches a bit but I’m hungry. How about that lunch?”

“As long as you don’t waste it by throwing up afterwards.”

They sat eating little chunks of lamb in flatbread and drinking spring water which, with the scent of herbs and the sounds of birdsong, relaxed and revived them. Afterwards, Illya tried to stand. “I’m all right, don’t fuss. I just need your hand.” Napoleon helped him to stand, his arms supporting him till the dizziness passed. It was touch that conveyed their real feelings; mockery merely disguised them.

“I’m OK, you can let go. How do we get out of this?”

“We’ll follow the path the water from the spring takes. It must go somewhere.”

It was difficult rock-strewn terrain so their progress was hampered even without Illya’s weakness. Napoleon supported him where he could and when he was allowed to and, after what felt like hours, they came to a path. Illya sat down and took out the map. “I think it must be this one,” he said. “It meets the one we went up so it’ll take us down to the village.”

Napoleon sat down beside him and touched his arm. “Are we agreed that we report this to the local head man or the police?”

Illya looked at him unhappily and couldn’t speak for a moment. “…They didn’t even challenge us – we might have been tourists…”

“He shot you out of hand, Illya. We have to report it.”

Illya was silent, then his mouth twisted. “We probably looked more purposeful than tourists; maybe they took us for police. They couldn’t possibly know who we are.”

“We have to report it, Illya,” Napoleon repeated. “You could have been killed.”

“They panicked at meeting unknown men on the path. The villagers must know better than to go that way. Let’s tell the head man – not the police.”

“So that you don’t have to take any responsibility for what might happen next?”

“I don’t need to. We will report an _accidental_ shooting, not an insurgency. We can’t control the politics of a country any more than we can control the weather. It’s not our fight. Isn’t that what you meant about dogs, earlier?”

Napoleon smiled, “Yes, I did. But we obey orders, Illya.”

“Very well, but I’m the one who speaks Greek. We tell the head man and if he chooses to tell the police, that’s his affair.”

oo000oo

They made their weary way back to the village and went first to the taverna to clean up. The air of embarrassment was palpable among the people who saw them.

In private, Illya said, “The story has gone round already. The village knows what’s going on. If the police find out, the village is doomed. If they don’t, the village can find somewhere else to cache their weapons.”

Napoleon started to protest, but Illya raised his hand. “You don’t know what state oppression is, Napoleon. You’ve never seen what it can do. We report an accident - yes? – and let our report _warn_ them.” He held Napoleon’s gaze with intense eyes. Napoleon looked away after a moment. Illya waited, watching his friend’s face.

“And if it leads to civil war?”

“As we could not start a civil war, neither can we stop one if it’s going to happen. Anything we do merely delays the inevitable.”

“All right, partner. If you can find the words to tell him that we know what’s actually going on and it must stop, I’ll go along with it.”

When they emerged from the taverna and went to the head man’s house, the atmosphere around them was tense. But when he accompanied them into the street afterwards and shook hands, there was a sense of relief and a return to the normal friendliness offered to strangers.

oo000oo

21 April 1967

Napoleon’s uneasiness was far from assuaged, however, and their relationship became a little strained. They left the village early the next morning and drove back to Athens. They hardly spoke on the way.

Arriving in the late afternoon, they found tanks in the streets and fear in the air. As they made their way to a hotel, they had to show their passports at every checkpoint. Everywhere, they saw military lorries with soldiers leaping out to snatch people from the street, beating them if they resisted and taking them away.

“What’s going on?” said Napoleon, horrified.

“I think it might be a coup. Whatever it is, my friend, it’s obvious things have been taken out of our hands. There’s nothing we can do.” He stumbled in distress as he spoke and Napoleon caught his arm. “But ultimately, they’ll fail,” he whispered, “all oppressors do.”

**ooo0000ooo**

**Author's Note:**

> The total takeover by a group of colonels was accomplished very quickly. Known left-wing sympathisers were rounded up all over the country and civil rights suspended. The US President, fearing an international backlash for supporting the Greek Right, backed away from outright support for the coup and did not support King Constantine’s counter-coup. The ramifications continue to this day even though the junta’s regime ended in 1974.


End file.
